The cleaning column
by Mortimer Van-Wyke
Summary: Aggie Twain is a columnist working for the Toronto Gazette who knows a little too much about a recent case, but is hesitant to pass along information for personal reasons. focus on Glynn, Higgins, Ruby and OC. takes place during S4 Ep 12.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hooray, I've finally started!**_

_**I've decided to write myself a little fanfiction for Murdoch Mysteries… there don't seem to be many fans of this lovely little show out there, aye? Regardless, I love this show, and I've had this little idea floating around in my head since this episode aired.**_

_**A quick warning to diligent watchers of the show…**_

_**If you have not yet seen the 12**__**th**__** episode of the 4**__**th**__** season, I strongly urge you to watch it before this fanfiction. Not only does this contain massive spoilers early in the fic, but it would also help it make sense. This fanfiction follows the plot of this episode.**_

_**Now, let's tip our hats to Glynn and Higgins, some greatly underappreciated reoccurring characters.**_

_**Enjoy~**_

_Dear Miss Maple,_

_My son plays outside with his friends and, much to my dismay, often comes come covered with mud and grass stains on his trousers. Could you kindly provide me with tips on removing such stains without damaging the fabric?_

_Sincerely, Cyndi Arden. _

Agatha sighed in exhaustion, raising a clammy palm to her forehead.

As of this day, she had officially been working for the Toronto Gazette for a year. Not saying, though, that this was an especially joyous occasion for her. All this long year, she had been stuck writing the 'Miss Maple' column – a bland, femmy housekeeping advice column that appeared in the back of the newspaper in the first weekly edition. For most people, a job writing such an easy article and making such a steady wage wouldn't be a problem. For the most part, this _was_ the case with Aggie. She couldn't help, though, feeling jealous at times of the significantly more important individuals buzzing around the Gazette office – the ones reporting _real_ news.

When she had first walked into the office all that time ago, becoming such a reporter was her intention, though she quickly realized that she had not even a breath of a chance.

She was young, inexperienced, quiet and unassertive, and, well, a _she_. Fortunately, this was just the right formula for the lovely _Miss Maple_, whose writer had recently quit.

Better than nothing, she had thought. So, here she was: Agatha Twain, 23 years old, the not so known writer for the not so read column.

Better than nothing, but not really something.

She read over Mrs. Arden's letter once more and managed another exasperated sigh before arming herself with her typewriter. She could hear all the other columnists clacking away, so she figured she should be getting done. Laying her hands on the keys, she was just about to start –

"Miss Twain, slacking off on the job again, are we?" A mocking voice rang from behind her. She shifted in her seat, turning.

"I, uh.. I… no, sir. I was just about to begin, Mr. Glynn." She sneered.

Paddy Glynn, the infamous journalist, smiled and laughed playfully.

"I'm just toying with you, Miss Twain. No need for such a tone!" He raised his hands and she smiled.

"Yes, I'm quite aware, Glynn."

He shrugged. "so, what kind of sanitary disasters have you got on your plate this week?"

Aggie groaned. "Grass stains!" she said with a disgustingly fake tone of glee in her voice.

Glynn raised an eyebrow. "I'm shaking with anticipation! I simply must know how to remedy this catastrophe."

Aggie smiled. "Ah, then be a dear and read my column." She attempted an awkward laugh, seemingly amused by her comeback. "So what about you, Mr. Glynn, the intrepid reporter?"

Glynn narrowed his eyes at her remark. "I've recently written on the exciting topic of vampires. I, er… remember, the murders and such?"

"Vampires. Indeed, Glynn."

"Well… I may have spiced it up a tad bit, but that's the fun."

"Spicing it up and harassing those poor constables. I know, Glynn."

Seizing a moment of silence, she began to type.

_Dear Mrs. Arden,_

_The tricks to remedying those nasty stains are –_

"More soap?" Glynn chirped dumbly. Aggie cleared her throat forcefully.

"No spoilers, Mr. Glynn. Off with you."

He smiled, patting her shoulders and running off. Aggie paused for moment, holding her breath and watching him until he was out of her sight.

In all her time working for the paper, she had encountered one vaguely nice thing: Mister Patrick Glynn – or Paddy, as he liked to be called. In all honesty, he was actually quite a pushy, annoying, slimy little thing (to put it lightly) but she had none the less struck up a friendship with him, among other things…

Actually, though she wouldn't admit it to herself, she had actually quite fallen for him. Paddy wasn't necessarily a fantastic looker, or really the most talented, or the nicest…  
>Well, he wasn't much of an anything, but none the less, Aggie had come to feel that way about him. She could only assume that the heart will want what it wants.<p>

She'd never speak of this with him, anyhow, he excuse being she was busy, and had no reason to sully her decent life with romance or other such issues.

_Especially_ with him.

She thought herself a practical woman, and practical women had no need for affairs of the heart. Besides, it's not like she was a jaw-droppingly beautiful girl, or had an especially unique personality, in her opinion. She looked, at the moment, quite plain…

A snug brown skirt with a white blouse tucked in at the waist, mousy brown hair worn up in a bun, and dreadfully boring gray eyes – she had never come to think of her presence at the Gazette rivaling anything but furniture. She liked to think of herself as an insignificant cog in an important machine, because really, that's all she was. Somewhat essential, but no one was going to notice that one little cog. That cog touched ends with bigger cogs, and constantly witnessed the important currents and steams of the machine pass it by, but it only exists to hold things together. That was it.

She was the writer of an unread column for women. It was there for ratings.

This didn't matter, though. She had a job, she had a salary, she had a friend… what else could a practical woman require for a practical life?

_Dear Mrs. Arden,_

_The tricks to remedying those nasty stains are actually quite simple. For the grass stains, you can rub butter or the juice of a lemon into the effected spot, and then simply lay it out in the sun before washing it next. As for the mud stains, it's as easy as rubbing a square of flannel onto the dark spots, and voila!_

_~Miss Maple._

Aggie pulled her last sheet of the day from the typewriter and made her way to the front desk, dropping it off for print the next day.

"Thank you, Miss Twain. Good afternoon." The man behind the counter said, quickly flipping through her work. Agatha nodded her head and fashioned her hat on her head. "Good afternoon, sir."

She made a swift bee line for the door, eager to get home and make herself a nice, hot cup of tea. She felt as if she had had a long, stressful day, and really wanted nothing more than to relax.

"Oh, you're gone so soon?" A familiar voice cooed a bit too close to her head. Aggie turned around slowly and smiled.

"Yes, Mr. Glynn. You may not be aware of this, not having much of one yourself, but I happen to have a life at home."

This time, he giggled quietly at her snide remark. "I do in fact have a life, ma'am."

Aggie shrugged. "As you please. I'm going to be heading to the bank before I head home. I have myself a note to cash. My pay."

Glynn swallowed hard. "I, er... which bank?"

"Is that you business, Mr. Glynn?" Aggie remarked sternly. He raised his hand in defense again, taken down once again by her blunt way of speaking.

"Ah… well, then, Ms. Twain. Good afternoon. Hope to see you soon." He said, backing up, and turning to head down the street opposite from her. Aggie waved sweetly and turned to walk her way.

"Good afternoon." She said quietly, even though he probably couldn't hear her.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Aww  
><strong>_

_**I've received myself some positive reviews and messages, so why not continue this fan fiction? It should not be too hard to finish. In all honesty, I'm not 100% sure what I want to do with this story, but we'll see how it goes. I don't imagine I'll screw things up too badly. I have the strangest feeling I'll have to watch this episode a couple hundred times to get details correct, heh heh…apologies in advance if not everything is accurate.  
>Enjoy~<strong>_

The streets of Toronto were pleasantly quiet as Aggie casually made her way towards the bank. She had just received her payment the day before, and had not yet found an opportunity to pay her bank account it's much needed visit. Aggie tended to be a forgetful person, and if she didn't do something right away, she often ended up leaving important things until it was too late. She made a mental not to herself to haul herself down there before she became preoccupied and forgot completely about needing the money she worked so 'hard' for.

Stepping into the bank, she was greeted by a familiar face. Ruby Ogden. Aggie smiled and gingerly tapped her on the shoulder. Ruby's face lit up as she turned.

"Miss Ogden? I believe we know each other. It is Ogden, isn't it? I do believe your sister works with my cousin…" Aggie spoke shyly.

"Agatha Twain, why, I never expected to see you here! You're Constable Higgins's cousin, aren't you?" Ruby said, quickly pulling Aggie into a hug. She shifted uncomfortably.

"Ah, yes. It's been a long time since we've spoken, hasn't it? What brings you to Toronto? I could have sworn that-"

"Julia's going to be married." Ruby interrupted, smiling. Aggie had a habit of speaking quietly and slowly, and often had her sentences cut off before they were finished.

"…Married? Ah, yes. I do believe I've heard. Congratulations." She said, smiling.

"Thank you. Er, Well, Miss Twain. It was nice speaking with you. Take care." Ruby said, promptly ending their conversation and walking towards the other side of the room to speak with a man. Aggie waved politely, her heart sinking.

She never found herself being much interest to other people. She knew no one meant to make her feel this way, but she felt, at times, supremely boring. As much as Glynn cared to protest at times, Aggie did insist that she was just _boring_.

Sighing, she made her way up to the counter, opening her hand bag.

"Good afternoon, Madam. What may I help you with?" the bank attendant asked uniformly. Aggie drew her check. "I'd very much like to—"

Aggie's sentence was abruptly cut off by a loud bang, what she could only assume was a gunshot. She felt her heart pound, letting out a quiet squeal.

Turning and raising her hands (along with most of the others in the bank) she came to see a tall, dark figure standing at the door way, armed with a rifle. She swallowed hard.

"oh lord…" she whispered under her breath, expecting the worst.

"Not to state the obvious, my good people, but…" yet another familiar voice echoed through the uncomfortably silent bank, which Aggie soon realized was coming from the man.

A large sheet of plaster loosened by the gun fired plummeted to the floor, causing Aggie to jump a tad bit, though she still found herself frozen in fear.

"Oh dear." The masked bandit murmured, stepping to avoid the falling debris. Looking a tad bit embarrassed, he hoisted himself up onto a table in the front of the bank. "anyway… this is a robbery" He cooed awkwardly, raising his gun to the level of a bank consultant's head. "You there, in the common suit and cautious cravat… you must be the bank manager."

He stepped down from the desk approaching this man, stopping not too far from where Aggie was standing. She felt as if her heart was going to stop.

She had never been one for social situations, and easily crumbled under pressure. She certainly wasn't fairing well standing less than 2 feet away from an armed man.  
>…An armed man who, for some reason, seemed strikingly familiar. She had no time to think about such a thing, though. She was beginning to panic.<p>

"To the vault, sir. And be quick about it, I do have appointments."

Aggie watched as the masked man lead the chosen gentleman into the back of the bank at gunpoint, feeling herself calm down a tad bit after losing sight of his weapon. She took it upon herself to take and hold a deep breath whilst trying to regain her senses.

"There now, that wasn't so bad." She heard his voice hum from the vault in the back of the bank, cuing her to tense up again. The robber made his way back into the lobby, still holding his weapon full in front of him.

The voice was, though, all too familiar. That thought crossed her mind again. Where on earth could she have possibly heard such a voice before?

"Oh my, and what do we have here?"

She watched cautiously as the bank robber approached a young woman about her age, probably another bank attendant, and…

…well, kissed her.

Aggie closed her eyes for a moment, feeling her face flush. Robbing a bank was one thing, but that was pushing it too far.

The robber stood the woman back to her feet and backed away, a smug look painting what little of his face you could see.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you have been most accommodating, and I thank you all for your patience. Good day." He added politely, then booking it out the door.

"He's so polite..." A seemingly un shocked woman standing next to her remarked. Aggie groaned.

Suddenly, her face lit up. She had just realized where she had heard his voice.

"Patrick?" she staggered, blinking in shock. The woman next to her turned. "excuse me my dear?"

"…nothing, ma'am."

Aggie felt herself feeling very confused at that moment. That was _definitely_ his voice, no question about it. Why on earth would he, of all people, be robbing a bank...?

She must have been wrong, she thought to herself. She must have been going crazy, due to her shock. She didn't fare well under uncomfortable circumstances, and a sudden bank robbery certainly counted as such a thing.

Just as she felt herself calming down, she heard the banging of swinging doors. The police, and her cousin, had arrived, but just a tad bit too late. In frustration and disarray, she saw Detective Murdoch, one of the station's head detectives, lead one of the constables through he back exit and outside in pursue of the bandit. Amidst all the yelling and commotion, she covered her ears and sighed. This certainly wasn't her day.

Her day hadn't been too lovely to begin with, but a bank robbery and her apparent dawning insanity just made the whole thing worse, for obvious reasons.

The events outside seemed to be rather quiet, and not too soon after they exited, the detective and his constable wandered back in the back exit with glum looks on their faces.

"the man somehow managed to get away." The constable announced.

_**Thanks for reading!**_

_**I'm sorry, I will admit, this chapter was a bit quick paced, as I've discovered I'm not very good at repeating canon scenes. It was also short… Ah, well.**_

_**Remember, if you've enjoyed this so far, be sure to leave some reviews! Danke~**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Oh hey, look! A reasonably long chapter!**_

_**After some thinking, I think I've roughly decided what I'm going to do with this fic. I have one problem to work out, still: is this story going on in the background of the episode, or will there be major changes to the plot? Eh, we'll see.**_

_**Enough of my obscenely long authors note. Enjoy~**_

It hadn't been too long since the robbery had taken place, maybe 20 or 30 minutes, and the air in the bank was still thick with worries and shock. In hope to avoid speaking to any officers, Aggie tried hard to keep to herself in a corner by the door. At this point, she certainly could have left if she had really wanted to, but she had decided that it would be dishonest. It would be perfectly moral to avoid questioning, but to straight out leave, _that_ would be dishonest. She did, though, have a home to get to, tea to steep, dinner to prepare – those thoughts did cross her mind – but this was a crime scene. She'd never been on site of a crime before, but she imagined that it would be wrong to just up and leave everyone else.

"_When a murder takes place, we're not allowed to touch or move the body unless absolutely necessary."_

That was what her cousin had always told her, his first few years of bragging about his job at the station._ Is a robbery like a murder? _She wondered. Perhaps the witnesses are to a robbery as the body is to a murder…

"Excuse me, ma'am." A man's voice said, quickly snapping Aggie back into reality.

"I… yes?" she said, looking up and smiling. It was one of the constables. Her heart sank. A constable grabbing her attention clearly meant she was going to have to give out details.

"Excuse me, but I'm afraid we are going to have to take your details." He said, pulling from his pocket a thin booklet of paper and a pencil. Aggie swallowed. "Yes, sir. Of course."

"your name, ma'am?" "Aggie – Agatha Twain, sir."

The constable paused for a moment, carefully jotting down her name. "Alright. Now, tell me, did you see any recognizable features on this man? His eye color? His hair color?"

Aggie peered at the floor uncomfortably as her heart started pounding. She couldn't possibly let the authorities in on her hunch. "No, sir. I'm afraid not. I didn't see or recognize anything about him." She lied. The constable nodded.

"And you're not hurt yourself, ma'am?" He asked. Aggie shook her head. "why, no, sir. I wasn't touched. He didn't even look at me, and I am quite fortunate and thankful for this. I was most frightened."

The constable nodded. "Yes. This is good. And what, may I ask, was your business here?"

Aggie drew her un deposited check from her pocket. "To deposit my paycheck, sir. I work for the Toronto Gazette writing a column. Nothing out of the ordinary, I assure you, sir."

He flipped closed his materials and slid them into his jacket pocket, smiling. "Alright. Thank you, Miss Twain. Have a good day, be safe."

He walked away and to the next closest person to her, drawing his note book. Aggie sighed a sigh of relief, sliding the check back into her pocket.

She hated answering questions. She hated talking to strangers, period, but she found it very hard to keep her cool when answering questions such as those.

She also found it difficult to lie.

"Make way, make way! Paddy Glynn with the Toronto Gazette!"

Aggie turned and groaned at the sound of an all too familiar voice, a voice belonging to someone she wasn't hoping to see any time soon.

Making a bee line for the inspector and his crew, Glynn quickly proceeded to draw his notes and bother them. Aggie discreetly shook her head, hoping he wouldn't notice her. After a short pause, she started for the door ever so quietly. Her details were taken. No one could be angry with her if she made her way home.

No sooner had she reached the door, he managed to catch up with her. Aggie swallowed her resentment as he tapped her on the shoulder.

"Agatha Twain? I did not expect to see you here." He said in a tone of voice a tad bit too happy to suit his job.

"Ah, Mr. Glynn. Alternatively, I quite expected to see you showing up here. Bothering Brakenreid and his crew once again, I see?"

They both stepped out the door, Aggie a bit faster, and started down the road. "Not bothering, my dear, Inquiring."

Aggie sighed. "Bothering, Glynn."

He shrugged. "I see the deposit of your check was interrupted. Better get back and deposit it soon, you and I both know you're forgetful."

Even though this completely true, Aggie narrowed her eyes at his remark. "I… am not forgetful! How dare you say such a thing. We're not family, you cannot say such a thing to a woman of my position, I…"

Glynn laughed quietly and drew his notes. "For a girl as shy as you, you sure get fired up easily."

Aggie sighed in frustration. At times, she felt as if she wanted to throw him a swift punch in the gut.  
>She didn't know why they were friends. She didn't even know how she could stand him.<p>

"Now, Miss Twain, do you mind if I ask of you some details of this robbery?" He asked, stepping a little closer to her. She smiled and stepped away.

"Yes, I do mind. I too, work for the Gazette. I'm sure there's a written rule somewhere that if I don't wish to be questioned, I shant be." Aggie relied smugly, crossing her arms. He laughed again.

"No, miss Twain, there is no such rule. Besides, we're friends. Now tell me… did the bank robber kiss any women?"

Aggie bit her lip. "Don't be a fool. I heard you just now asking the men from the station just that. You're calling him _the kissing bandit_, are you not?"

He shrugged. "Yes, and I'm not allowed a second opinion? Backup? This is good reporting, my dear. These are widely used skills. For an aspiring journalist you sure—"

"Yes, he did." She interrupted, not too eager to hear him finish his sentence. He shot her a look of annoyance, which she returned.

"…Very good. What did this robber look like? What did he want? Did he… do anything else of interest? Anything at all?"

Aggie titled her head at his sudden and obsessive interest in the Bandit. "I, uh… well, he was dressed head to toe in dark clothing with a bright… red… scarf, sir, and he… I don't know." She paused. "You seem awful interested in the details, Glynn."

He squinted. "Interested? Like I said, I'm a reporter and it's my job—"

Aggie mockingly patted him on the shoulder. "I had my eyes closed for most of the robbery. You know me, frail, shy, terrified little Aggie… you best ask someone else."

Glynn frowned. "I'm sure you didn't. You're lying." He said in an almost certain tone of voice.

"Ah, you sound so sure, Mr. Glynn. Perhaps you have more faith in me than I've been lead to believe."

By this point, they had tread a fair way away from the bank, almost to Aggie's home, where Glynn had followed her. Aggie nodded to the sight of her house up ahead.

"It looks like you've followed me most of the way to my house, Mr. Glynn." She smiled sweetly, and reached over to close his notes. He shifted uncomfortably.

"It appears I have. I'm sorry."

Aggie continued walking for a moment, only to realize he hadn't continued following her. She then proceeded to laugh heartily. He looked up at her in confusion.

Most of the time, Aggie seemed to him to be very quiet and shy.  
>She was feisty when she wanted to be, but quiet and shy. Loud laughter was neither of these things.<p>

"…What? What exactly is so funny?" He asked in confusion.

"Paddy Glynn, intrepid reporter, so easily turned off the view of a witness because of some minor lashes and the arrival at her house? I must say, Mr. Glynn, I find myself quite disappointed."

He put his hand on his hips. "Miss Twain, I was trying to be polite. Are you not pleased with anything I do?"

"…I suppose not." Aggie said awkwardly, quickly sinking into her usual, quiet demeanor.

She stepped back towards Glynn and smiled politely. "I'm toying with you, sir. I'm sorry. The robbery must have gotten me a tad bit shook up-"

"It must have." He interrupted.

_Shut up_. She thought. "You're good at what you do, I suppose." It pained her to say so. "…and listen, Glynn. If you and I are friends as you say, it would be lovely to see you outside of work in a situation where you are not probing me with questions."

He raised an eyebrow. "oh?"

"Yes, sir. Now, good day. The hours are growing late, and I have business of my own to take care of. I wish you luck on this case, as you seem intent on glorifying this robber."

In most cases Glynn would have lashed out at her for making such a remark, but she didn't seem to have intended it that way, so he said nothing. "Yes, I, er... Good afternoon, Miss Twain."

Aggie waved politely, stepping inside her house. "Good afternoon."

/

It was beginning to grow dark, and Aggie had taken it upon herself to sit down and relax for the evening with a nice cup of earl gray. The day for her had been long and stressful, and she was afraid she had made a bit of a fool of herself in front of Mr. Glynn.

…Paddy Glynn.

The same thoughts had been running through her head since she had left the bank. Her thoughts about him, that is…

His voice, his height, the way he moved – everything about the masked robber was leading her to think that she was perhaps going insane. The man bore a striking resemblance to her not so appreciated friend.

Paddy did, though, arrive at the scene not too long after the robbery. Perhaps that could be evidence that it wasn't him, if she'd like it to be.

It wouldn't take long for a man to remove and hide a hat, scarf and cloak, but she chose to ignore that.

Her day had been stressful, and she didn't want to worry herself anymore.

She took a long sip from her steaming cup of hot tea, smiling. Her joints ached from her panic, and it felt lovely to go limp and relax with nowhere to be and nothing to do. She had no work the next day, and that suited her fancy just fine.

She needed some time to herself.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Well now, look at this…**_

_**Seeing how I'm going through close to none of the events from the episode, This is feeling more or less like original fiction then fanfiction, heh heh… This does, though, give room for Aggie to develop an actual personality! Hooray.**_

_**This chapter was a bit rushed though…**_

_**None the less, enjoy~**_

Aggie awoke the next morning to the sound of an insistent rapping on her door. She wearily opened her eyes and shifted uncomfortably, having shamefully fallen asleep on her sitting room chair, then dragged herself to the door. She opened it swiftly.

"Ah, Miss Twain! You _are_ home." Glynn spoke gleefully. Aggie felt her jaw drop.

"I…er….I… Excuse me, but it's the early hours of the morning! Must you come calling on me so early? I… I'm not even…" Her words trailed off. He looked confused.

"…Miss Twain, it's the afternoon. It's two o' clock in the afternoon." He said hollowly, shooting her a disapproving look. Aggie's expression soured.

"Afternoon? I must have… that's not the matter. Why are you at my house?"

Glynn shrugged. "The office wants you, and I know where you live. They sent for me to get you."

"Even though I have myself a telephone, Glynn?"

"…Perhaps I volunteered. That doesn't matter, though. The important thing is that the office has work to be done, and they want you to do it."

Feeling both surprised at the decent news and angered by his untimely calling, Aggie managed a smile. "Alright, then. Be a gentleman and give me some time to tidy myself up." She stepped back into her house.

"of course, Miss Tw—"

Aggie shut the door swiftly before he could finish his sentence, running into her sitting room.

"What on earth…" she managed, frantically trying to tidy things, and herself, up before she had to leave. She couldn't keep him waiting, though this visit was most irregular. After tidying her cup and patting down her chair, she ran pats a mirror in the hall to quickly fix her hair.

Better her hair than nothing, for she saw no time to change… not that it mattered.

She bit her lip looking into her reflection. Her mousy brown hair was in much disarray, and she found it terribly embarrassing that she had answered the door in such a way. She grasped at her wooden hair pin (which was still tangled in the back of her hair) and quickly fashioned herself a bun on the back of her head. She turned down the hall and made it back to the door.

"…Sorry." She said, creaking opened the front door and stepping out onto her porch. Glynn shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. "Yes… No problem, Miss Twain."

Aggie found herself laughing quietly, closing her door and wearily stepping down her stair and to the road. "Tell me, now… what exactly does the Gazette need me for on this fine mor—afternoon?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure, I'll be completely honest. It sounds like a promotion to me."

She felt her heart leap._ A promotion?_ She thought, then feeling a giddy smile reach across her face. _Why on earth would they promote me?_

"A promotion, you say?" She asked.

"Beats me."

The two walked a few more blocks down the road, mostly saying nothing, until they finally reached the street the Gazette office was on. Noticing the building, Aggie turned to Glynn.

"Well, here we are." She said sweetly, starting up the stairs. "Thank you very much for, uh… walking me here, I suppose, I…"

He smiled, continuing down the street. "I took what you said to heart, Miss Twain. Perhaps we _should _see each other more."

"Oh?" Aggie sputtered, then noticing that he wasn't heading into the office himself. She took a step down the stairs and waved. "Mr. Glynn, where on earth are you off to?"

He froze.

"I, uh… have some business to attend to. Never you mind. Go on ahead inside. I'll be at the office tonight, and I'm sure you will be, too."

Aggie wrinkled her brow, feeling a pang of jealousy take her over. She had forgotten, for the moment, that he was in fact a journalist and spent what she could only assume was a fair amount of time away from the office, reporting on the goings on and such.

She wished she could do that.

"Oh, of course. Good luck and good day, then." She said, waving once more and heading in the building.

Inside, the office seemed a lot quieter and calmer than it did on the usual weekday evenings she had spent there, typing up the Miss Maple column. She liked the office silence, enriched by the sound of rustling papers and the clacking of keys, only occasionally hearing a low-toned, whispering human voice.

Carefully, she approached the front desk.

"I was told you wanted to see me, sir?"

The man at the desk paused, putting down the paper he was reading, and turned to her. "Miss Agatha Twain, is it? The writer of the weekly cleaning column?" He said in a gruff voice. She nodded.

"Yes, we have a bit of a job for you. I'm pleased to announce to you that you will be taking on a small editing job."

Aggie titled her head. "An editing job, sir?"

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am. It appears that we have an opening in the editing department for some of the daily reports, and you have been recommended many times over, and we all agreed here that it was about time for you to take on a larger responsibility with us, here."

She was shocked. "Recommended? What… by who?"

"It's not for me to say, Miss Twain. This job will require you many more hours in the office… Will you be able to manage both jobs?"

Aggie nodded and thanked the man profusely, and was then directed into a large room in the back, behind where she usually sat to write Miss Maple. Her heart was pounding.

"In here, Miss Twain, is where you'll be working. I'm sure you'll get to know the others in this department quite well."

Aggie smiled, clutching a piece of paper on the desk. "I'm sure I will."

/

Hours passed, Aggie having spent the whole rest of her afternoon correcting spelling and grammatical mistakes on various articles and columns. By this point, she had all but forgot about the goings on of yesterday.

"$2000, Majory? Oh, you just can't be serious!" One of the women said, standing up from her chair. It was just about time for her to go, by the looks of it.

"Mark my word, it was $2000. Every last penny was left to an orphanage by the Kissing Bandit."

Aggie's ears pricked.

"The Kissing Bandit? Oh my, I've heard much talk about this one buzzing around the office of late. Didn't one of our journalists do the most splendid front page article about it?"

"Yes, Liz. I had the pleasure of editing said article, and what an exciting robbery it was…"

Aggie turned gingerly, awkwardly trying to make her presence in the room known.

"I… was there." She spoke shyly, the other two women turning. "Excuse me, my dear?" The one called Marjory asked. Aggie drew her work from the type writer and desk, and stood. "I was at the bank when it happened."

The two women's faces lit up. "Oh, how exciting! How romantic!" Liz said, clapping her hands together. "Was it as exhilarating as Mr. Glynn's article lead us to believe, Miss… Twain, was it?"

Aggie bit the inside of her lip, nodding. "I suppose."

Her suspicions and fears of that robbery once again entered and laid heavy on her mind.

"It was most exciting… now if you excuse me, I have places to be, and people to speak with. Good evening, ladies."

She bowed slightly, and the women smiled and waved. "Good evening, Miss Twain." They spoke in unison.

_**Where on earth is this story going? I'm not even sure myself.**_

_**I do find myself feeling kind of bad for Aggie, though, heh heh…**_

_**Remember, if you enjoyed this chapter and yadda yadda yadda, be sure to leave a review! I love to know what I'm doing well, and what I should fix .It will help my story turn into something good, and not garbage like everything else I've written here! Thanks~**_


	5. Chapter 5

"Exhilarating." Aggie repeated to herself in a displeased tone.

She had finished what work had been layed out for her that day and was getting ready to head home.

Her first day in the editing department went fine, but her last conversation had left her sour. As much as she tried to ignore it, last day's incidents lay heavy on her mind. The more she tried to forget her suspicions, the more likely she made them all out to be.

Not like she could bring it up with Glynn, though.

"_My dearest friend, of the late, I find your articles on a certain criminal far too glorifying, and his voice and yours are far too similar. Care to explain?"_

She snickered at the thought of doing so.

"I'm done for today. Good evening." She spoke softly, walking through the lobby. The receptionist raised a hand signifying he had heard her. Fashioning her hat to her head, Aggie stepped outside into the cool, night air of Toronto and started down the street.

As she walked, another thought came upon her:

Glynn had said he'd be at the office that night, didn't he?

Either way, she'd be best off not seeing him. Let's face it, she thought to herself, not only was she quite suspicious of him and concerned, but after all her while working (and putting up) with him, she had come to care for him.

Care for him like _that_.

With all of this being the case, she figured she needed a break. No need to worry herself or him. No need to cause trouble. No need for creating tension.

Still lost in thought, she felt herself bump into someone in mid tread, someone who was very much in a hurry.

"I…" The someone spoke in an irritatingly familiar voice. Aggie groaned painfully.

The last person she'd seen last night, the first in the morning, the last before work… most importantly, the _last_ person she wanted to see.

"Well, speak of the devil." Aggie spat. On the ground, Glynn carefully raised himself to his feet, frowning. "My deepest apologies, Miss Twain, but I'm in a hurry."

Without another word, he continued bolting down the street and into the darkness._ Odd. _Aggie thought, tilting her head.

No matter, she didn't wish to speak with him anyhow. It was for the best.

/

"Another robbery?" "How exciting!" "There was another robbery last night!"

As she arrived the next day for work, all aggie could hear was the talk and gossip of yet another robbery by the kissing bandit. On her way in the door, it seemed to her that it was the only thing being spoken of.

She went straight to the editing room, trying hard to avoid conversation.

"Oh, Miss Twain, did you hear of the news?" Marjory said, the moment she sat down at her desk. Aggie sighed. "Of the robber? Yes."

Her troubles seemed insistent on following her where ever she went lately. Much to her displeasure, Marjory placed her hands on Aggie's shoulders and continued to speak. "these robberies are most exciting! I heard the kissing bandit returned to the Bank of Toronto and kissed the same girl… Annabelle Rose, was it?"

Aggie felt the strangest and most disgusting pang of jealousy.

"Isn't she just the luckiest thing? Oh, how romantic!"

Though it was a (somewhat) pleasant thought that often crossed her mind, Aggie didn't exactly consider the idea of being kissed by one who was assumedly Paddy Glynn 'lucky' or 'romantic'.

Come to think of it, the thought of Glynn being romantic was actually quite comedic.

"Oh, so very romantic, indeed." Aggie cooed fakely. The gossip clapped her hands (it seemed to be a thing of hers) and giggled. "Just wait until Liz hears about all this!"

The afternoon passed slowly, words if the bandit thick on the air the whole day long. When the time came, Aggie happily packed herself up and headed for home. Liz and Marjory where too busy gossiping to say goodbye, it seemed.

Mush to her dismay, she caught sight of her favourite trouble maker stepping out into the lobby. She groaned as they made eye contact. _Why am I his friend?_ She thought sourly, watching him approach her.

"Miss Twain." He said, finally flagging her down. Aggie froze. "Ah, why if it isn't Patrick Glynn." She spoke hollowly. He raised an eyebrow. "…_Paddy. _Look, I'm sorry about last night."

Aggie nodded. "No problems, Mr. Glynn."

Trying to force the end of the conversation, Aggie attempted desperately to make it toward the door. He stepped to one side and stopped her.

"Excuse me, Mr. Glynn."

"Aggie…" He said, using her first name, much to her surprise. "You seem displeased with me, and not just an _Aggie_ sort of displeased. Have I said something I shouldn't have?"

Aggie swallowed hard, saying nothing.

"Miss Twain, have you heard something?"

Aggie smiled distantly and quickly made her way out the door. He kept on her toe.

"Aggie…" Glynn called out, chasing her down the stairs. "Look, whatever it is, I'm sorry."

She froze and slowly turned to him. "…You haven't really done anything. I just…" she trailed off. Clearly, this wasn't enough for him. "I don't want to lose a friend because I did a stupid thing, Miss Twain. Tell me, what is it?"

Aggie exhaled loudly, shaking her head. He was being pushy, as always.

"Ah, what do you care? You're so busy with Miss rose of the late, why concern yourself with others?"

The two fell silent, Glynn slowly growing aware of her sudden accusation, Aggie shocked at what had just come out of her mouth.

"…Miss Twain, you're saying you think I'm the bandit?"

Aggie felt her face go red. She was quite embarrassed.

"Don't be ridiculous! I… well, I just love a good story, that's all."

He seemed a tad bit flustered, but Aggie didn't care to notice. Smiling, she shrugged. "I'm a fool." She managed. He laughed.

"And how. Thinking I'm a bank robber! You'd have to be pretty daft to think such a—"

Aggie jabbed a finger into his chest and scowled. "Now, don't be a fool and push it. You will make me angry."

There was a short pause, but they both laughed awkwardly.

In all honesty, his denial made no difference to Aggie's suspicions. If she were robbing banks and kissing pretty women, she wouldn't tell her co-worker.

This didn't matter, though. She was standing and laughing with him. If not for her her foolish suspicions, she would really be enjoying herself. She did, after all, have a thing for him.

Yuck.

If she was in love with someone as pushy, annoying and upright idiotic as Glynn, perhaps she _was _insane.

_**Hooray! I'm doing well so far finishing a chapter per day… sadly, I see the quality of my story decreasing, and this chapter was dreadfully short. I'm thinking I need to sit back and actually think of a plot instead of writing free-fire like I do. Ah, well~**_

_**Thanks for reading this far!**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Sorry for my prolonged absence! It's back to school here in Canada, and high school is a tricky thing. Regardless, I'm back. (It's not like you missed me anyhow, aye?)**_

_**I'm trying hard at the moment to clean this fanfiction up… admit it, chapter 5 was terrible. It's occurred to me that Aggie has slowly become a terrible MarySue, and I really need to fix that. Seriously, she's come down with one terrible case of Sally's song syndrome. (in all seriousness, look up that song… listen and compare. You will laugh pretty hard, I'm sure. I know I did.)**_

…_**but enough with my terrible author's note. I'm sure you don't really care.**_

_**ON WITH THE SHOW~**_

As the day grew later, a crisp blanket of cold air settled over the streets of Toronto. By the time it had grown dark, Aggie Twain has well settled herself in at home, enjoying herself a nice warm cup of Earl Gray. She wanted some rest, for the days ahead she had planned would be quite taxing.

Early that next day, she had planned to pay her cousin a visit at the police station. She had things to report and things to inquire about. She had decided, in a sense, to take part of the town's most talked about investigation into her own hands, as foolish as that was.

Glynn _had_ to be the Kissing Bandit. She had made that much out in her mind. Everything up to this point had lead her to think so, regardless of his denial. She wished dearly that this didn't have to be the case, but sadly, it was.

To this point, though, she had only _thought_ this. To be at peace with herself, she needed to prove this. Aggie had never been one to leave situations of this sort alone, and one could argue that this was one of the most annoying points of her personality.

Never anything to this volume, of course. As a child, she was often the one child who'd set off on her own to investigate stupid things, and it had often gotten her in trouble. As she grew older, she gradually learned that having such an approach was wrong. She learned that a practical woman's place in life was on the sidelines, and that was all she ever aspired to be.

A practical woman with a practical job, leading a normal life, and one day, a normal marriage.

On the rare occasions when she did do such things, people were often very surprised to see that side of their frail, timid Aggie. When she has her mind set on achieving a task – and _really _set – at times, she would demolish whatever and _whoever _got in her way.

Not, of course, without her own way about it. She was always quiet about the way she did things, making it difficult for other to follow in her footsteps, or really understand in any way what she was doing. This was why she would have made a terrible field journalist.

This was why she wrote a cleaning column.

She watched thoughtfully as the dying flames of her fireplace licked the cool stone borders. A plot was slowly unraveling in her mind. Taking another sip of her tea, Aggie sat back in her chair, beginning to smile. In her mind, revealing her honoured person was as easy as discovering his disguise; the dark clothing and red scarf he had become so famous for wearing.

Chewing on that thought for a moment, she found herself sighing. It wouldn't be that easy. Things in life were never as easy as one's first thought. In doing this, she didn't want to cause any harm, and she most certainly wanted to avoid getting caught. She admitted to herself that she wasn't in this for the thrill of catching a criminal, but more or less to prove something to herself. Her thoughts were foolish thoughts, and perhaps unachievable thoughts, but none the less, she continued to think them.

Sitting silently in her fireside chair, the night grew later and later. Finally, the fire died out and Aggie was left in virtual darkness. For this reason, she decided it would be best to go to bed. A person's mind functioned better after a bit of sleep, and a functioning mind was what she needed.

Perhaps after resting, she wouldn't be thinking such crazy things anymore.

_**Wow, this is perhaps the shortest chapter for anything that I've ever written.**_

_**What was that… 600 words? School stress is really taking a toll on me. Sorry. Next time I sit down, I'll write something more, because it seems I'm losing whatever touch I had when I started writing. It's a shame. I will plug through this hunk of junk until the end! I honestly believe I can do great things with this!**_


End file.
